


Hell Is A Reunion Party

by Vamillepudding



Series: Not A Meet-Cute [3]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamillepudding/pseuds/Vamillepudding
Summary: The first thing Charles noticed about Erik's old high school was that it was not only ugly but also had a distinct prison-like look to it, barb wire fence included.The second thing Charles noticed about Erik's old high school was that the people who had graduated with Erik just really, really sucked.**Or: Erik takes Charles to his high school reunion. It goes as well as one would expect.Can be read as a Stand-Alone.





	Hell Is A Reunion Party

Charles was just coming out of the shower when Erik asked: “How would you feel about going to a high school reunion with me?” Naturally and unashamedly, Charles could only think of one thing to say to that.

“Will there be alcohol?”

“Probably.”

“I'm in.”

“You'll have to dress nice though. Pretend you're a catch.”

“Excuse me” Charles said, mock-affronted, “I will have you know that I _am_ a catch. I'm way out of your league.”

“Says the guy who drank from the same moldy cup of coffee four times yesterday because he kept forgetting it was moldy.”

“How do you even know that? Are you _watching_ me now? Just when I thought you couldn't get any creepier.”

“You were sitting next to me in the living room, and the whole thing was way more amusing than anything on TV could've possibly been. Emma said to tell you that you're, quote-unquote 'even more pathetic than previously thought' by the way.”

“Ugh, you told her? Alright, that's it, we need to have a conversation about boundaries.”

Erik looked innocently confused. How sweet. “I thought we already had that talk.”

“No, I _tried_ having that talk, and then you distracted me.” Now the obviously faked confusion changed to a very real smugness on Erik's face.

“Right. I remember now.”

Charles sighed.

“How good of you. So let's make a list of rules. Rule Number One, you can't tell Emma everything that's going on in our lives. Well, my life. I don't care what you tell her about your life, as long as it doesn't involve me.”

“But – I thought we kind of shared a life now” Erik said, sounding hurt. At this point, Charles wasn't sure anymore if his boyfriend was still faking or if he was being serious. Then again, with Erik it was best to assume 'being serious' as a default state.

“Our lives overlap. That's definitely not the same. Living together doesn't mean being the same person, and thank God for that. Can you image me in those turtlenecks you wear? All my beauty would be wasted.”

Erik frowned.

“What's wrong with my turtlenecks?” he asked, as always entirely missing the point. Charles opened his mouth to reply, then looked down at himself and discovered that he was wearing the same cardigan for possibly the fifth time in a row. There were two unidentifiable stains on it, as well as a rather big hole. He closed his mouth. Then he remembered his main argument.

“Rule Number Two: You may text and ask why I'm late getting home. You may not call Hank – honestly, I don't even know why you think he would know. He grades papers for me. He is not my secretary.”

“To be fair” Erik said, “he does know where you are fairly often. Also, when I'm late, I don't mind you calling _my_ secretary.”

“Erik, darling, you're never late, and you actually _have_ a secretary. That's a big difference.” He waited a moment to see if his boyfriend would protest, and when nothing came, he added: “Rule Number Three -” A pause. Erik's face lit up.

“You can't think of anything more, can you? I knew that you-” 

“Rule Number Three” Charles repeated loudly, “If you give me one more gift that has metal in it just so you can keep track of me-”

“That is not-”

“-then you're going to have to find yourself a new date for that reunion party.”

It was done, Charles having raised the stakes. He knew he had Erik now, and Erik knew it too.

“Don't you dare.”

“Try me.”

“You can't make me go alone to that thing.”

“I can and I will” Charles insisted. “In fact, that goes for the other rules as well. Tell Emma one more personal thing about me and you're showing up on your own, with everyone thinking you're too pathetic to get a date to an event where _everyone_ will bring a date, just on principle. Did you know that Emma has a _blog_ now? That's right, a blog where she talks about relationship dramas. I think it started out as an advice column, but now she's really just gossiping.”

He wasn't lying – he had stumbled onto that website a few weeks earlier, following a link from Raven, who thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Naturally, Emma hadn't returned a single one of his calls.

“We were last month's big story. The fake names she used were absolutely ridiculous and painstakingly obvious, and the story itself was about our first date. How would she know that, Erik, without you telling her?”

“I mean, she _is_ a telepath” Erik pointed out.

“No, that's not why. Try again. How would she know that, darling?”

“...Because I told her. I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

Charles leaned in and kissed Erik lightly on the mouth.

“Congratulations, Mr Lehnsherr. You've found yourself a high school reunion date.”

“Oh thank God” Erik said, moving in to return the kiss. His boyfriend pulled back slightly and smiled.

“ _You'll_ have to dress nice though, too. I'm not going anywhere without my boyfriend being able to pretend that his level of hotness is anywhere near mine.”

***

The way to Smithfield, Ohio, where Erik's old school was located, proved to be more of a challenge than either of them had anticipated.

Charles said that flying was quicker and more comfortable. Erik said that planes were death traps.

Charles argued that Erik could control metal and should be able to prevent any plane from crashing. Erik argued that he shouldn't have to.

Charles started sending Erik statistics about the likelyhood of plane crashes and car accidents. Erik blocked Charles' phone number.

Charles wiggled his fingers and offered to cure Erik's fear of flying telepathically. Erik wiggled his fingers and offered to cure Charles' case of stupidity by putting a metal spike through his brain.

When the time for the reunion came, they took Erik's car.

***

It has been said that spending an extended amount of time together in an enclosed space is one of those inevitable relationship tests. Amittedly, Charles couldn't remember who had said that, but either way, he wasn't sure he agreed.

They were approaching hour 10, and so far, Erik had not let him play any music or eat any food in the car, and threatened to abandon him at the side of the road if he continued to ho hum under his breath. Effectively ruling out all other methods of passing the time, the two men had instead spent their time having conversations where they traded nothing but insults for hours on end, and Charles thought to himself that this roadtrip could not be going better.

Well, if you ignored the fact that they were most likely going to be late to the reunion since it seemed to become more and more obvious that Erik had gotten lost at some point during the past hour.  
  
“So how long has it been since you graduated?” asked Charles as they drove by yet another field, one he thought he recognised. They came to a crossroads, no signs in sight. Erik hesitated visibly before taking the road to the left.

“Fifteen years. I didn't think I'd ever come back.”

“Why not?” Charles couldn't image Erik having a hard time in school, and he said as much. His boyfriend shook his head.

“No, that's not it. High school was fine. But I went to college, and my mother moved away, and I never looked back. Skipped the last two reunions, actually.”

“What changed?” Erik shrugged and didn't reply, so Charles let it go and went back to looking out the window.

“I hated high school” he said, thoughtfully. He could sense Erik's surprise at his statement. “I loved university, but school, no. I still had trouble controlling my powers, so every day in school I was bombared with all this information I didn't want to know, didn't know how to process. Who was sleeping with whom. Which girl was pregnant and hadn't told anyone. Which kid got abused by their parents. Which guy was failing chemistry, and which girl was acing it. Who took drugs. Who planned to drop out. Who was gay. Who had cheated on their partner. Just – everything. Horrible.”

He waited a few seconds, then added as casually as he could: “Also, my stepfather and his son used to beat the shit out of me then, so there's that.”

The car – the _metal_ car – rocked.

Erik had told Charles once that it was easy to forget about his telepathy. These words had surprised him more than anything, for a variety of reasons. One of those was that he actually projected his thoughts into Erik's mind quite frequently, knowing that his boyfriend welcomed it.

Another reason was the suspicions most people had about telepaths in general and, for some reason, Charles specifically. Despite the fact that barely anyone knew how to shield properly, and that it wouldn't make one bit of difference even if they did, they would all at least attempt to do so in his presence.

So, yes, he didn't understand how Erik could ever forget about Charles' power, but he had no doubt that it was the truth.

Charles, on the other hand, never forgot about what Erik could do.

It was always there, a part of Erik as much as – no, even more than a limb, since you could lose an arm or a leg and still function. Erik wouldn't survive the loss of his ability to manipulate metal.

There were mornings when Charles would ask Erik to pass the salt for his eggs, and the salt shaker would float into Charles' hands. Other times, when the two of them had an argument, the cupboards would rattle, or Charles' watch would pulse dangerously around his wrist.

Yet Erik remained in near-perfect control at all times. This had been hard to come to terms with, the fact that while Charles might be a more powerful mutant, Erik was more in control, was better at handling his ability.

Charles had never been able to pull out of people's minds completely, not 100 per cent. His boyfriend, however, could keep such tight wraps on his metal telekinesis that no one would ever have suspect him being a mutant if he hadn't announced it to the world at the age of 18, loudly and angrily as well as naked and in front of the White House to get more attention.

(Had they met during college, Charles reckoned, they would have hated each other on sight.)

So all in all it was a testimony to Erik's temper when for just a split second, the car jerked, not because Erik had lost control over the wheel, but because Erik had lost control over his power.

Charles jumped, immediately and instinctively diving into the other man's mind, prepared to project feelings of Calm and Serenity.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. Erik pulled himself together on his own, and the drive continued.

“Erik-” Charles started to say, only to be interrupted by a sharp:

“Don't.”

“No, it's just – we drove down this exact street fifteen minutes ago.”

“No we didn't” said Erik firmly. Charles wasn't fooled. _Just because Erik says things in a firm tone of voice doesn't mean he's right_ , he had told Hank over and over again.

“Yes we did. Pull over, I'm looking this up on Google Maps.”

“I used to live here, I know the way.”

“Well _clearly_ you don't. Hold on, I'm just-” Erik waved a hand, and Charles' cell phone floated into his own pocket. Charles reminded himself that he was a person who abhorred violence, and therefore punching his boyfriend was Wrong. “Erik, give me back my phone.”

“When we're there.”

“Whenever that may be” he said theatrically. “I told you we should have-”

“If you mention the words 'flight' or 'plane' in your next sentence, I will give Emma detailed descriptions of our love life and tell her to mention you on her blog by _name_.”

“-...should have stopped for more gas” Charles finished, not missing one beat and looking pointedly at the fuel gauge. “If we get stranded in the middle of nowwhere, I reserve the right to hold this over your head for the rest of our lives.”

For some reason Erik looked strangely at him after he had finished that sentence, and it wasn't the kind of strange that implied he was suitably threatened by Charles' words.

“What?”

“Rest of our lives” Erik repeated, raspy voice sounding like he was experiencing the beginnings of a cold.

“Christ, is this about the shared-life-thing again? Because if it is, I swear to God, I am going to give you How Not To Be Creepy In A Relationship 101 for your birthday, and yes, I just made that title up but I'm sure it exists somewhere anyway, sue me.”

“No” Erik said, annoyingly vague as only he could be, and then a minute or so passed in which neither of them said anything at all. All the while, Erik kept sneaking glances at his boyfriend, which Charles noticed but chose to ignore for the time being.

Just when he had decided to ask Erik if he was okay, the latter pointed in a rare case of excitement towards a sign on the road.

_Smithfield, 2 miles_ , it read.

“See that? I told you I knew the way.”

“Let it be known to all mankind that the 13th of July shall hereafter be known as the Day That Erik Was Right For Once.”

“Thank you.”

“Even though it took him ten hours for a route that usually takes seven because he insisted on not using a map.”

“You can stop with the compliments now.”

“No sense of orientation whatsoever, is what I'm getting it” said Charles with a smirk. Their banter was cut short as they drove into town. Erik had previously described it as 'small and not as charming as the tourist office would have you believe. It's fine. It's a town. It exists. Sorry, how was this relevant?”, and it now became obvious that he could not have been more wrong.

They had arrived just in time for the sun set, so all of the colonial houses were bathed in a golden light which would have done wonders for anyone's complexion, but even so, there was a certain charm to it all – the park in the town's central, the old church looming over everything, the small shops and the narrow roads – that Charles, having grown up in the city, found equally alienating and hard to resist.

“It's lovely.”

He turned back from the window just in time to see Erik smiling softly to himself.

 

***  
  
The first thing Charles noticed about Erik's old high school was that it was not only ugly but also had a distinct prison-like look to it, barb wire fence included. Erik merely shrugged when Charles pointed this out to him, and mumbled something about how not everyone could afford a private school and Charles could just suck it up.

The second thing Charles noticed about Erik's old high school was that the people who had graduated with Erik just really, really sucked.

They had only just arrived when they were approached by a group of intoxicated women who asked a variety of increasingly uncomfortable questions about their relationship, none of which Charles was comfortable answering.

“ _So who's the top?”_

“ _Well, intellectually I am clearly the one coming out on top, isn't that right, Erik?”  
_

“ _No, I meant, who's the guy. When you two, you know.”_

“ _Terribly sorry, but I think I just saw something...someone...over there, which is where I'm now going. Erik, with me.”_

After that, there was the guy who loudly bragged about his job as a banker and openly hit on every single woman in the room and, when that didn't prove successful, tried his luck with Charles, who considered giving the man his number just to see what would happen.

“ _Are you single?”_

“ _No, actually I'm with the angry-looking guy who's holding my hand right now. You might recognise him. I heard you used to be on the same football team."_

“ _Oh hey, Erik, didn't see you there, how're you doing, old boy? So Carlos-”_

“ _It's Charles.”_

“ _-what do you say about getting that drink?”_

There was the woman who, according to Erik, had left high school thinking she would be a famous martial artist, possibly in the Olympics, and who now taught kung fu to elementary students, which didn't stop her from trying to demonstrate the moves on her former fellow students and, as it so happened, Charles.

“ _Come on, just let me show you this one thing and I'll leave you alone. Don't be a spoilsport.”_

“ _Please let go of my arm – oh my_ god _, why did you do that?!”_

“ _Just showing you how it's done.”_

“ _You threw me to the floor. You threw a_ stranger _to the floor.”_

“ _Geez, you're welcome.”_

There was Erik's old English teacher who gushed about Erik's old essays for five minutes before realising that she was thinking of a different Erik.

“ _I'm so sorry, dear, there's just too many students, it's so hard to keep up. And_ you _must be good ol' William. Great work on Romeo and Juliet, I still remember.”_

“ _...Right.”_

Finally Charles dragged Erik out of the gym where the event was being hosted and towards the small playground, where he first kissed his boyfriend angrily and then proceeded to voice his unhappiness.

“I don't even blame you. This is practically my fault, you know. Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you love me” Erik suggested and added wryly: “Although the promised alcohol played a part too, I assume.”

“Of which I did not get one bit yet, by the way, because _someone_ keeps stopping me from going to the bar.”

“Maybe I want your sober self to impress all my old classmates with your intellect.”

“Or maybe you just like to see me miserable” Charles said.

“That, too.” They fell silent. It had got to be close to midnight, Charles reckoned, yet the vast majority of Erik's old class were still enjoying themselves. There was something tragic in reunions, in a way, wasn't there? Upon graduation you could pretend to yourself that everybody's dreams had worked out – or, if you had disliked school and were feeling vindictive, you might imagine that your former classmates were now down-on-their-luck garbage collectors. Either way, you would go on with your life living with a certain image, which would inevitably get shattered during a reunion party such as this one. Soon enough, every single person here would go home feeling more than a little disillusioned.

The playground was abandoned at this time of night, yet in a few hours it would be cluttered with children. Charles took Erik's hand and pulled him wordlessly to the monkey bars, which they climbed without any significant effort. Somewhere else nearby, a woman's loud laughter could be heard. From the gym, still soft music playing.

For once, Charles didn't need to reach out with his telepathy to get an accurate reading on Erik's mood – although that wasn't quite true, was it? He had been getting better at this consistently over the past two years.

“You're happy.” It was a simple statement, no need for confirmation, and as such, it was the last in a long line of equal conversations, where Charles would proudly name Erik's current emotion withoug having had to result his powers.

As always, Erik confirmed anyway.

“I am.”

“But not because of the reunion” Charles guessed.

“No. You said something earlier.”

“I say a lot of things. Smart things, too. I'm good like that.”

Erik suddenly closed his eyes and took Charles' hand, pushing it towards his temple. Charles couldn't help but laugh at that.

“Erik, I told you it doesn't work like that. I'm a telepath, we don't do Vulcan mind-melds.”

“No, but I want you to look. I know you can.”

“Of course I can” Charles replied, sounding cockier than he had been aiming for. He didn't actually need physical contact or to close his eyes to read Erik's mind, but he did both anyway, squeezing his boyfriend's hand a little.

The scene that played out for him was a memory of earlier events, back in the car.

“ _-...should have stopped for more gas” Charles finished, not missing one beat and looking pointedly at the fuel gauge. “If we get stranded in the middle of nowwhere, I reserve the right to hold this over your head for the rest of our lives.” Rest of our lives. Our lives._

_Our._

_Oh._

Charles broke free, and Erik's mind was his own again. For a moment, they simply looked into each other's eyes. Then Charles smiled.

“That,” he said, “is just terribly cheesy, my friend.”

Erik looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes, but also like he thought himself above these urges and was certain he would resist.

“Shut up. As if you didn't think it was the most romantic experience in your life.”

“My standards are low like that” Charles agreed sadly. “You probably could've taken me to a thriftstore on our first date and I still would've put out. Why go through the trouble of booking a table at a restaurant when you can have the same result with way less effort?”

“You're absolutely right. My god, how I've wasted my time.”

“And all for a 30-year-old – oh.” Charles stopped mid-sentence, staring into the distance. A slight tap on the shoulder reminded him that Erik was still sitting across from them, a concerned frown etched on his face.

“Charles? What's wrong?”

“What's the time?”

Erik glanced at his watch. “Five minutes past midnight. Why?”

“Funny. Yesterday was my birthday. I've been 31 for an entire day and I didn't even notice it.”

“Oh.”

“Is that weird? Isn't this something I should have picked up on? Is this the first sign of old age? Next thing you know, I'll be wearing cardigans and calling you Derek.”

“You already wear cardigans” Erik pointed out dryly.

“Yes, but nice ones. Not old-people-cardigans, Erik, there's a big difference. Oh god, I'm going to die. What shall I put on my tombstone?”

“How about _Only The Most Dramatic Die Young_?”

“Or I could play around with the dates they always engrave. _Birthdate? Can't remember. Neither could his boyfriend_. Don't think I didn't notice how you didn't congratulate me, sweetheart.”

“I don't really think you can fault me for forgetting something you forgot as well.”

“Oh, the verbal abuse I put up with from you.”

“It's a tragedy” Erik said and started to climb back to the ground. “Come on, let's go back inside. If we stay out any longer, people might start to speculate about what exactly it is we're doing out here.”

He offered his boyfriend a hand to help him get safely back on his feet, which Charles chose to ignore as he climbed down on his own. They walked back towards the gym, where they were stopped by a somewhat familiar woman. She was almost as tall as Erik, and just as stunning in her suit.

“Erik? Erik Lehnsherr?”

“Oh” Erik said, sounding as unenthusiastic as a person could possibly manage. “Hello.”

“Is that your date? Hi, I'm Abby.” She shook hands with Charles, who couldn't suppress the thought that all high school girlfriends in the history of the world presumably went by Abby. It was just one of those names.

“Charles. It's good to meet you.”

She laughed. The handshake was still ongoing. He tried to pull his hand back. She didn't let go.

“I'll bet. So tell me, Charles, has he told you he loved you yet?” Confused, Charles looked at Erik, who in return looked at the sky like he was praying to a God he didn't believe in. The message was clear: You're on your own.

“Uh.”

“He has, hasn't he? Don't believe a _word_ this guy says. He'll just abandon you, to be alone _forever_ , and you'll never find happiness again, and it'll be prom night and all your friends will be laughing and dancing and having fun while you'll be sitting in a corner _crying_ -”

“I wouldn't dare to make assumptions about your psyche” Charles said slowly, “yet I can't help but feel like this isn't really about me.”

“Abby” Erik interrupted, “it's been fifteen years. Please stop harrassing my boyfriend.” Clearly, this had been the wrong thing to say, because the pressure Abby was applying sharpened suddenly, making Charles feel like his circulation was slowly being cut off.

“Boyfriend? That's how it is, is it?”

“...well, yes” said Erik, blinking.

“Unbelievable. So _now_ you are completely comfortable with being gay, but you had to date me for _three months_ and it still took you until _prom night_ to come to terms with your sexuality?"

Once more, it took Erik a couple of seconds before he replied. These glitches in the conversation flow would have been worrying, if Charles hadn't been so amused, and also possibly on the verge of fainting, since Abby was still holding on to his hand. What a picture they must make, he thought to himself.

“...I'm not gay.”

“What? Don't be silly, of course you are.”

“I'm bisexual.”

“What.” Abby said, and finally, finally, she released her death grip. For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Charles was able to take more than shallow breaths. “You can't be bisexual. You – no. You're not doing this to me. Not again.”

_Is she having a breakdown?_   Charles asked, projecting his thoughts clearly into Erik's mind, the latter of which startled but quickly regained his composure.

_No, she's always been like that. I wouldn't worry about it_.

“I wouldn't worry about it” was also what Erik had said last Winter when Charles realised he had accidentally taken very strong sleeping pills, left in the fridge from a visitor whom neither of them could remember, instead of the painkillers he had wanted for a small headache.

True to his word, Erik hadn't worried about it one bit, at least until he tried to wake Charles up some time later and realised he couldn't. That little incident had not only led to an ambulance showing up at their house, but also to concerned questions by the doctor concerning drug abuse.

After that, Charles had decided to make it his policy to worry about everything Erik dismissed.

“If you like women, then _why_ , for the love of God, did you stand me up that night, and had your mother tell me that you'd gone to Europe on a fucking backpacking trip when you were probably really at home _laughing_ about me, Jesus-”

_I didn't know you ever went backpacking_.

_I didn't_.

“Look, the truth is-” Erik began, and it was at this precise moment that Charles was overcome by an almost prophetic epiphany. He knew, he just knew, that his boyfriend was going to say something horrible, or at least more horrible than usual. He crossed his arms, waiting. “-I just wasn't that into you.”

There it was.

As always, Erik took the whole concept of Being A Dick to new heights.

Abby simply stared at her ex-boyfriend for a few long, terrible seconds. If she had made an attempt to hit him, Charles would of course have stopped her, but he could appreciate the sentiment. Instead, she laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh, it didn't invite anyone else to join in, and it didn't last long. When she had finished, she walked away in the direction of the parking lot, not even sparing Erik a last glance, her eyes instead boring into Charles'. She raised a mocking eyebrow. Charles copied the expression, and watched her leave. Eventually, he said:

“I cannot believe you called _my_ ex-boyfriend Trevor a, quote-unquote 'crazy douchebag'.”

“Well, he was” Erik said, and in all fairness, he was probably right. The last Charles had heard of Trevor, the man had attempted to build a rocket in his front lawn.

“Yes, well, my _current_ boyfriend is the worst hypocrite. I hear he also broke up with this poor girl on prom night. Seriously, who does that?”

Erik didn't even have the good grace to look as ashamed of himself as Charles thought he ought to be.

“She'll get over it” Erik said dismissively. “Besides, it wasn't the worst breakup I've ever had.”

“Really” Charles said, curious despite himself. He took Erik's hand and led him back inside. “Alright, let's make this fun. I'll bet you ten dollars that my worst breakup was worse than yours.”

“Make that twenty and you're on.”

“Deal. Alright, so mine involved a guinea pig and an actual, real-live gun.”

“Mine involved a threesome, a suspicious package and a bail.”

“...you go first.”

During the remainder of the night, stories and jokes were exchanged and money was handed over, Charles finally went to the bar and got spectacularly drunk, and when the sun was almost up and only few people remained, Charles and Erik slow danced to Ryan Adams' _When The Stars Go Blue_.

The rest of their lives, Charles reflected later as he lay in bed next to Erik. It didn't sound as scary as it should have. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> The song mentioned in the last paragraph can be listened to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT0cndgd1kM).
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading ! I would love some feedback.


End file.
